Turn Away
by ardhrianna
Summary: Why does Yami Bakura hate Yami Yugi and Seto Kaiba so much? An AU that takes place entirely in Ancient Egypt. Rating may be high, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Entry for chizaboo's fanfic contest. SLASH! SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Part of my Ryou/Bakura series. takes place mostly in the past, so I guess it's a prequel to "Silent Fortress". Then again, it COULD be a sequel to "Where Evil Grows". *evil grin* Take it however you want it. ;)  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. I do, however, own a Dark Magician toy. And a Malik toy. That's about it.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by the Billy Joel song, "An Innocent Man". Many, many thanks to both my beta readers, and Silver/Pachelbel (my grammar coach) and Masaki Uke (who helped with many of the Egyptian aspects of this story, including the name "Set-khuh".) Thank you both so much! Apparently, both Kaiba and Bakura had their own names back in Egypt, but I've chosen to give them Egyptian names. So yeah, this fic would be AU.  
  
/blah/ is Yami Bakura talking to Ryou. //blah// is Ryou talking to Yami Bakura. "Nakhti" means "strong" in Egyptian and "Set-khuh" means "blessed by Seth".  
  
DEDICATION: Kris, as always.  
  
***********  
  
Turn Away  
  
//Bakura?//  
  
/What?/  
  
//Can I ask you a question?//  
  
/You just did./  
  
//Well, another one, then.//  
  
/What?/  
  
Short pause before, //Why do you hate Seto and Yami so much?//  
  
Long pause before there came the soft feeling of a mental sigh. /Do you really want to know, yadonushi?/  
  
//Yes. Tell me. Please.//  
  
/What's the modern expression? "You asked for it..."/  
  
****  
  
"You're beautiful, you know that?"  
  
"No, I'm not," came the sour response as the boy pulled a lock of hair out of his partner's fingers. "I'm not beautiful."  
  
"Even though you're a man, you're still beautiful. I love looking at you."  
  
There came the sound of a cough that just barely disguised the word "woman" in it.  
  
Indignant surprise. "That was rude. I am most assuredly NOT a woman. Although **you** would know best, considering last night."  
  
The white-haired boy smiled, climbing out of the bed the two were currently sharing. "And then again this morning?" he teased gently. "But it's true. Only a woman would call someone else beautiful."  
  
"Is that any way to speak to your Pharaoh, little Nakhti?"  
  
"No, it's the way I speak to my lover." Nakhti glanced up at the Pharaoh -Yami- as he pulled on his linen kilt. "And said lover will be very late for his meeting with the council if he does not get up immediately."  
  
Yami rolled over to look out the window, noting Ra's position in the sky and realized that his lover was right. Cursing fluently in three languages, he scrambled out of bed and into his ornate robes. Nakhti watched in silent amusement as Yami threw open the door and almost ran out into the hallway, which was thankfully empty of servants at this hour of the morning. Only his personal guard awaited him, dutifully ignoring the Pharaoh and his lover re-enact the routine which happened nearly every morning.  
  
"Nakhti?" he called, turning to watch his white-haired love approach at a much more demure pace. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Nakhti half-whispered as he watched his lover disappear around the corner with his guards in tow. Sighing, Nakhti turned and walked the opposite direction.  
  
Back to the slave quarters.  
  
****  
  
"He loves me," Nakhti reminded himself later as he worked beside the other palace slaves in the throne room, now empty of all save the small group assigned to clean the room daily. "The Pharaoh! He loves me."  
  
"What are you muttering about?" came the question from another slave. An older slave stood before him, one who wasn't overly fond of Nakhti to begin with. "You know talking will get us beaten!"  
  
"Sorry," he hissed back. "Thinking out loud."  
  
"Well, don't think then. Whatever you're thinking about isn't worth getting everyone else into trouble over. You've heard about Pharaoh's temper!"  
  
"I have," Nakhti acknowledged, fighting down a smirk. Oh, yes, he knew Pharaoh's temper. "I apologize and I promise to think quieter."  
  
"Please do. Just last week, one of the kitchen slaves was beaten for daring to speak in Pharaoh's presence! I won't have all of us punished just because of one idiot." With that, the other slave turned his back on Nakhti and took up the scrap of wet linen he'd been washing the floor with. Nakhti sighed and stole a glance at Pharaoh's golden throne-the only thing in the room the slaves weren't allowed to touch. Smiling secretly to himself, he picked up his own cloth.  
  
Despite what the other slave said, some things were worth thinking about.  
  
****  
  
"You're late." Yami's voice was only half-teasing. "I summoned you long ago."  
  
"Some of us have to work," Nakhti replied, a bit bitterly. "Not all of us can be Pharaoh and sit on a golden chair all day and have *slaves* bring us everything we need!"  
  
The other blinked in surprise. "Do you really think that's all it takes to be a Pharaoh? To sit on a chair all day?" He snorted. "You have no idea what it's like to live my life."  
  
"And you have no idea what it's like to live mine," Nakhti shot back, anger rising. "You've never had to be a slave, Yami. You've never been beaten, starved, treated like something less than a camel. You've always been the favored golden child, the only son of the former Pharaoh. You've never known-"  
  
Yami shook his head, golden bangs bouncing. "Maybe I've never been a slave, my love, but I know-"  
  
"You know NOTHING!" Nakhti's voice echoed off the walls and Yami took a step back in surprise, never having seen his lover this upset. "Do you have any idea, Yami, what it's like to lie just to save your own skin so you wouldn't beaten within an inch of your life? Ever been on your knees, hearing the abuse hurled at you and you *take* it because you have to and you'll be sold, or worse, if you talk back to your MASTER."  
  
Yami flinched at the word spit so hatefully at him. "Nakhti-"  
  
"You've never been owned like a common animal, Yami, so don't pretend to know what it's like!"  
  
"Maybe I don't know what it's like to be a slave, but I do know what it's like to have to hide the truth. And I know what it is like to be forced to do anther's bidding." Yami kept his voice gentle. "Do you think I like having to hide you? To look at you when we're outside of this room and pretend I feel nothing for you? To not be able to touch you when I want? To have to pretend to be interested in the women my council parades before me as they beg me to take a wife?"  
  
Nakhti sighed and ran a hand through his white hair, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.  
  
Yami sat down on the bed, watching his lover carefully. "I hate it as much as you do, love. I don't want a wife, Nakhti. I just want you. And I hate not being able to scream that from the top of the palace. Believe me, I hate it. And I hate that you're a slave even more. You know that were it in my power, I would free you."  
  
Nakhti turned to look out the window of the chamber he and Yami shared, even if it was only at night. "I know."  
  
"Your father-"  
  
"I KNOW, Yami. I, too, remember why I am what I am."  
  
Yami finally sighed. "Come here." Wordlessly, Nakhti obeyed and allowed himself to be wrapped in a hug. "I wish things could be different."  
  
Settling his head on Yami's shoulder, Nakhti watched the evening shadows play on the wall as Ra began his nightly travel though the underworld. "So do I."  
  
****  
  
"Nakhti." Gentle kisses along his collarbone drew him out of sleep. "I need to get up."  
  
"No."  
  
Soft laughter. "Yes, my love. I have a meeting with the High Priest this morning and I don't think he'd understand if I tried to tell him that my lover wouldn't let me out of bed."  
  
One brown eye opened as his arms tightened around Yami's waist. "But you don't LIKE the High Priest. So why do you care what he thinks?"  
  
"I know, but he has many allies in the palace who may...try to hurt those I love." Yami's crimson eyes were troubled. "I don't want that."  
  
Nakhti sighed and released his hold on Yami. "I can take care of myself."  
  
Yami gave his white-haired lover a smile as both climbed out of the bed. "But I like taking care of you."  
  
"And you call ME a woman." Nakhti threw Yami's clothes at him, laughing as Yami made a big show of getting dressed.  
  
"I may require your services later." Yami reached for his heavy gold torc and set it around his neck with a little bit of help from Nakhti. "A delegation of Mitanni are coming to sue for peace and I'm not sure if they speak our tongue. It's on days like this that I thank Ra for the fact you learned it as a child!"  
  
"You know where to find me if you need me." Nakhti gave Yami a kiss and pushed him towards the door. "Now go, before you're late and annoy His Pompousness."  
  
Yami laughed and allowed himself to be pushed. "I love you."  
  
"And I you. Now go!"  
  
****  
  
Nakhti waited all day for the summons, but none came. And when Ra completed his journey across the sky and sank into the underworld, he climbed into his hard bed, quartered with the other slaves. He missed Pharaoh's bed already and it had only been one night.  
  
****  
  
Morning came much earlier in the slave quarters than it did in Pharaoh's chamber. Rudely, Nakhti was awakened by one of the older slaves and given a list of chores. Stretching out sore muscles he'd forgotten he *had*, he wordlessly set about his tasks.  
  
He was in the process of carrying a perfumed candle to the chamber of one of the minor palace priests when he ran into a hard body, knocking him onto his back. Glancing at the sandals the person wore, he flinched and quickly made his obedience. Those particular gold sandals belonged to only one person.  
  
Set-khuh, the High Priest of Egypt.  
  
"So you're Pharaoh's favourite slave," came the cold voice from above him. "What he sees in you, I don't know. You're just a little thing."  
  
"My lord?"  
  
"Come now, I'm sure you've heard the palace talk. Everyone knows why Pharaoh summons you for 'special chores'. I never knew a slave's chores included warming his master's bed every night."  
  
"Not every night," Nakhti said bitterly, then cringed. To talk back to the High Priest was an offence worthy of a good flogging.  
  
"No, he didn't summon you last night, did he?" The smirk in Set-khuh's voice was unmistakable. "Poor little forgotten slave. But I suppose even Pharaoh gets tired of the same thing all the time."  
  
Nakhti forced his gaze to the floor, desperately wanting to ask Set-khuh exactly what he meant by *that* remark when he felt a hand settle on his head, taking a lock of hair and twisting it through strong fingers.  
  
"Such an unusual colour.... Shame Pharaoh got to you first." Then the High Priest was gone, leaving Nakhti alone in the hallway. Shrugging, he picked up the discarded candle and resumed his task.  
  
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a seed of doubt settled.  
  
****  
  
The summons came late that night, long after Nakhti had already collapsed into his bed, exhausted beyond belief. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled after Pharaoh's guard until they arrived at Yami's chambers. Pushing open the door, he found Yami already waiting for him.  
  
"Come," Yami beckoned. "Sit with me." Yawning, Nakhti obeyed, taking a seat at Yami's feet instinctively. The other boy sighed softly before taking a lock of Nakhti's hair in his fingers and playing with it, a strangely familiar gesture. "How was your day?"  
  
"Tiring." He leaned his head back against Yami's knees. "I just might fall asleep here if you keep that up."  
  
"Come to bed, then." Yami drew Nakhti to his feet and gently guided him over to the bed. Once the other boy was settled, Yami climbed in beside him and threw his arm over Nakhti's waist. "Sleep...I'll be here in the morning."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
But when Ra's rays woke Nakhti the next morning, he was alone.  
  
****  
  
No summons came for nearly a week and Nakhti began to get used to the feeling of waking up in his own cold bed. Silently, he went about his work, trying not to think about the High Priest's words. Yami wasn't tired of him...was he? Yami would have said something if he were getting tired of him.  
  
The doubt planted by Set-khuh's words only grew with each passing day of silence.  
  
****  
  
"Slave." A palace guard stood before him, glaring. "Pharaoh summons you." Nakhti just barely managed to bite back a nasty remark, remembering his place just in time. To back talk Pharaoh's guard was an offence worthy of a severe beating and a stay in the dungeons. Silently, he followed the man down the hall, just has he had that night over a week ago.  
  
This time when he walked into Pharaoh's chambers, however, something was different. Yami stood beside his bed, just as before, but there was something different about his demeanor. Something almost guilty in the way he looked at his white-haired lover. But Nakhti was really too tired to think about it much.  
  
"I've missed you," Yami purred, drawing the other boy into his arms. "Have you missed me?"  
  
"Bed's cold."  
  
"So you only want me as a bed warmer? I'm glad I'm loved!"  
  
Then Yami kissed him and Nakhti forgot his doubts. He *kissed* like nothing had changed, so maybe it was just his imagination. And when Yami gently tugged the other boy over to the bed, Nakhti forgot everything, even his own name.  
  
He'd missed this.  
  
****  
  
When morning dawned, Yami was still beside him, asleep. Nakhti rolled over in order to better study his lover. In sleep, Yami's face was open and almost innocent, a trait he'd learned to hide long ago. But his innocence was one of the things Nakhti loved best about him. He was Pharaoh, but there were still many things he did not know. Slowly, the white-haired boy was teaching him some of them.  
  
"Good morning," Yami said quietly, watching the play of emotions over the other's face.  
  
"Oh, you're awake. Good morning."  
  
"I don't want to get up...I'm too comfortable with you. Go tell my council I crawled under the throne." Yami buried his face in the blankets. "I've been told I'm short enough."  
  
"I'd like to see you do that, actually."  
  
"Do you think my Vizier would notice if I didn't show up today?"  
  
Nakhti laughed. "Probably. You're not easily missed. And I've heard the man's title should be Viper and not Vizier."  
  
Yami grinned. "Is that what they call him?"  
  
"Among other things."  
  
"I should spend more time away from the throne room...the things I miss being stuck in there all day!" Yami smiled at Nakhti before turning serious again. "You know that I meant what I said last night-I've missed you."  
  
"And I you," Nakhti said honestly. "I thought...."  
  
"You thought what?"  
  
"That you were tired of me."  
  
Yami sat straight up in bed, looking down at Nakhti in shock. "Tired of you? By Ra, no! Where in Osiris' name did you get that idea?"  
  
Nakhti found the pattern laid into the floor very interesting. "Just a rumor."  
  
"I'm not tired of you, beloved," Yami said, red eyes flashing with anger. "Whoever told you that is lying and I don't take well to people lying to those I love. Who told you?"  
  
"Nobody important."  
  
"Nakhti."  
  
"It's just something I heard whispered through the slave quarters," the white-haired boy lied. The fury only grew in Yami's eyes and Nakhti was suddenly very frightened. He'd heard of Pharaoh's legendary temper, but he'd never seen it in full force. "Yami, please! You can't punish all of the slaves for gossiping!"  
  
"Oh, yes, I can." Yami's eyes flashed. "Watch me."  
  
"But I'm one of them." Nakhti sat back down on the bed beside his lover and put one hand on the tanned arm. "And if you punish them, you have to punish me. I'm a slave, too."  
  
"I know." Yami's voice was strained and when he opened his eyes again, sadness lurked in their depths. "You won't tell me a name?"  
  
Nakhti shook his head, rising from the bed.  
  
"Fine...I'll let it go. I wish you would tell me."  
  
"It's nothing, Yami. Like you said, just a rumor. No truth to it at all."  
  
"If you're sure."  
  
"I am." Nakhti smiled just as a knock came on the door. Yami groaned and tried to bury himself further into the blankets, but Nakhti just pulled the linens off the bed and threw them on the floor. "Go. Your council is waiting."  
  
Yami finally got up and dressed silently. When he was done, he looked at his lover. "Will you be alright today?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Yami came over and kissed him gently. "I love you. Never doubt that."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
Then Yami was gone and one of Pharaoh's most trusted guards poked his head in the room. Nakhti nodded, signaling his understanding that it was time to return to his place with the other slaves.  
  
"So Pharaoh invited his pretty toy back into his bed?" the High Priest's voice hissed from a hallway near Pharaoh's chamber. Nakhti started, wishing that the guard had accompanied him beyond the first hallway this day. But the upcoming visit from a neighboring country's war delegation had the council worried and all available guards were being posted around the throne room.  
  
"My Lord." Nakhti quickly dropped to his knees.  
  
"You know he only does it because he feels he owes you something. Imagine that-the Pharaoh of Egypt owing a SLAVE something."  
  
"As you say, my Lord."  
  
"Pharaoh can have anyone, man or woman, that he wants, little slave. So why would he continue to bed *only* you when he can find someone much more worthy?"  
  
Nakhti forced his gaze to remain on the floor, not wanting Set-khuh to see the pain that had sprung into his eyes.  
  
"You're nothing to him-just a pretty thing he can play with when he gets bored with everything else. And now he is bored with you."  
  
Nakhti bit back the tears he could feel welling up as he heard a note of truth in the High Priest's words. He would not allow the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry.  
  
"Get out my sight, you disgusting little vermin," Set-khuh snarled, gesturing violently. "Go back to your place with the other slaves!"  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Nakhti bowed his head submissively as the High Priest stalked away. When Pharaoh's guard found him a few minutes later, his face was calm even as his mind replayed each one of Set-khuh's words back to him.  
  
The doubt in Nakhti's mind grew ever larger.  
  
****  
  
Yami summoned Nakhti each night that week, although the white-haired boy found himself used more as a pillow than anything else. Yami just didn't seem interested in anything beyond simple cuddling and chaste kisses.  
  
"Yami?" Nakhti ventured one morning just as his lover was about to disappear for the day.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
Yami turned to face the other. "Of course I do! Why do you ask?"  
  
"No reason." Nakhti lowered his gaze to his lap. "Just needed to hear the words, I guess."  
  
"You'll be here tonight?"  
  
Nakhti nodded. "If you want."  
  
I do." Yami leaned over and gave his lover a soft kiss. "I love you." Then he was gone. Nakhti allowed the Pharaoh's words to resound through his mind, even as his heart didn't believe them. Yami's voice didn't hold the same note of truth it used to when he spoke those three simple words. He felt the tears begin to well, again, but, again, he fought them back.  
  
He was a man, long since grown out of childhood, and men didn't cry. No matter what.  
  
****  
  
Nakhti waited to be dismissed from his duties that night, eager to get to Yami's rooms to see his lover. After thinking about it for most of the day, he'd decided that he was simply over-reacting, allowing Set-khuh's words to poison his mind. Yami loved him - he'd said so that very morning before leaving. And Yami wouldn't lie to him. Finally, he was allowed to leave and he made his way through the maze of corridors to the wing of the palace set aside for Pharaoh's personal use. He was stopped by the guards only once before he was allowed on his way.  
  
Yami's door was closed when he arrived, so he knocked. Hearing a soft noise in response, Nakhti opened the door.  
  
And felt his heart shatter.  
  
"I'm not seeing this. I'm not seeing this...." the words repeated like a mantra in his head. "Just turn away and it won't be real. It can't be real. Turn away. Turn away. Turn away!"  
  
Closing his eyes, he turned his back on the scene and tried to block the image out of his head. His Pharaoh, his YAMI, in bed with the High Priest of Egypt, a man he was sworn to hate. Obviously, that hatred didn't extend to the royal bedchamber.  
  
"He wouldn't do this to me. He told me this morning that he loves me."  
  
What do words really mean? Came a voice from the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like the High Priest himself. How easy is it to say the words, but not mean them?  
  
"He loves me. I know he does. He told me so. I'm not seeing it anymore, so it's not real. Yami invited me to his chambers tonight. He loves me. He wouldn't do this. He...he loves me."  
  
Keep deluding yourself, little slave... A Pharaoh says a lot of things, none of which he means. Are you so sure he loves you the way he says he does? How do you know he wasn't -lying-? How could a powerful Pharaoh like him EVER love a little weakling like you? You're just a slave - nothing of any value. You're his property, nothing else. And property is easily discarded.  
  
Sliding down the wall in the corridor outside Yami's rooms, Nakhti finally succumbed to the tears that had been threatening to fall.  
  
"No..."  
  
/End part 1 


	2. Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Part of my Ryou/Bakura series. takes place mostly in the past, so I guess it's a prequel to "Silent Fortress". Then again, it COULD be a sequel to "Where Evil Grows". *evil grin* Take it however you want it. ;) Nakhti's reasons for hating Yami and Seto are further explained.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. I do, however, own a Dark Magician toy. And a Malik toy. That's about it.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by the Billy Joel song, "An Innocent Man". Many, many thanks to both my beta readers, Masaki Uke (who helped with many of the Egyptian aspects of this story, including the name "Set-khuh") and Silver/Pachelbel (my grammar coach). Thank you both so much!  
  
/blah/ is Yami Bakura talking to Ryou. //blah// is Ryou talking to Yami Bakura. And I made up one of the places in this story, the Valley of the Dead, as I highly doubt anyone who was NOT Pharaoh would have been buried in the Valley of the Kings. Yami Bakura's family history is also entirely my own creation.  
  
DEDICATION: Kris, as always.  
  
***********  
  
Turn Away, Part 2  
  
Nakhti stumbled away from Yami's chambers, tears streaming freely down his face. *His* Yami and High Priest Set-khuh were...no, he didn't want to think about it. Thinking made it true and it couldn't be true. Yami loved him, not Set-khuh. He'd said so himself that very morning.  
  
If Yami loved you, why would he be bedding Set-khuh? The voice in his mind cruelly asked. The High Priest was right...Yami is tired of you. You're nothing to him anymore. His love was just a lie to get you into bed.  
  
"...I'm nothing," Nakhti whispered to himself. "Yami doesn't love me. He lied to me." Anger began to replace the pain and he stopped at one of the windows, looking out at ia'eh (A/N: the moon). "He betrayed me."  
  
He needs to be punished, the little voice said. Only then can you get your proper revenge for what he's done to you. Make him HURT.  
  
"Yes, hurt him like he's hurt me." Nakhti paused. "But how? He won't care if I sleep with someone else...he's shown he doesn't care about me or what I do."  
  
What does he love more than anything else?  
  
"The Shadow Games, but I have no power over those."  
  
What else?  
  
"His father. But his father's dead."  
  
Even in death, revenge can be taken. Just look at what your precious Yami and his father did to YOU.  
  
Nakhti smiled, a cold, bitter smile that had never touched his face before. "Yes...they made me suffer for the sins of MY father....They deserve to pay for that, if nothing else. But first, I need to get out of this place." He leaned out the window, gauging the drop from the window to the ground. It wasn't that far, only ten feet or so. And once he was out of the palace, it was simple matter of getting over the wall, finding himself in the maze of alleys that surrounded the House of a Million Years.  
  
Go, Nakhti, said the voice, and learn new ways to hurt those who hurt you. Never be weak again. Never let someone do to you what he has done. Make what he has broken into something unbreakable-you can be invincible!  
  
"Yes..." the white-haired boy's eyes glittered with anger. "I am not weak. I am strong." Pulling himself out of the window, he dropped the short distance to the ground and ran for the wall. As it was between patrols of Pharaoh's guard, this section of wall was unwatched for the moment and Nakhti slipped over it effortlessly. The lesser palaces and temples surrounded him and Nakhti embraced the darkness that had fallen. Silently, he slipped through the shadows until he reached the marketplace of Thebes.  
  
For the first time in his life, he was free and in control of his own destiny.  
  
****  
  
"Boy!" A shout came from behind him. "Thief!" Nakhti just laughed and ran faster. Despite his tell-tale hair, he was still quicker than the fat old merchant he'd just stolen dinner from, and he would not allow himself to get caught. His years in the palace hadn't slowed his reflexes any.  
  
"You'll have to catch me first!" he couldn't resist calling back over his shoulder as he darted into a dark alley, laughing when the market guards ran right past his hiding place without even a glance. He'd been on the streets for a week already, and not once had the guards even come close to catching him. Checking quickly to make sure they were, in fact, gone, Nakhti snuck out of his hiding place and continued on his way.  
  
"Slave! Stop right there!" Came the shout and Nakhti froze for a moment. How did... Then he realized that the shout wasn't directed at him, but at someone else. A someone else that was currently on a collision course with his chest. Nakhti barely had time to brace himself before the boy crashed into him, sending them both flying.  
  
"Oomph!"  
  
"Gotcha!" Hands descended on the two boys before they could even move, yanking them to their feet and holding them prisoner. The strange boy struggled and howled, but didn't succeed in loosing the hands that held him. Nakhti just stood quietly in his own captor's arms, hoping that they wouldn't look too closely at him. From the look of their kilts, they were palace guards, and he'd heard rumors in the marketplace that Pharaoh's guards were looking for a white-haired prisoner who'd escaped Pharaoh's justice. Nakhti didn't particularly want the men to recognize him as the runaway slave they were looking for-no matter how dirty it was, his hair was a dead giveaway. Thankfully, the two men were more concerned with containing the boy they'd captured than looking at their other prisoner.  
  
"You little brat!" The one holding the boy shook him violently. "You upset half the palace, scared the scribes, and, most importantly, angered the Pharaoh! Your punishment will be severe."  
  
"Go bugger a camel!" the boy shot back, kicking out and nearly connecting with the guard's shins. "Then again, you 'd probably enjoy that, wouldn't you? Son of a camel's whore!"  
  
"Hrekin!" Nakhti's guard changed his grip slightly, preparing to aid his partner in subduing the more unruly of the two prisoners. "Your mouth will get you killed, boy."  
  
"Better killed than a SLAVE!"  
  
"You are a slave!" The guard slapped the boy viciously across the face, earning himself an eyeful of spit.  
  
"You'll wish you were dead when the Priests of Ma'at get through with you," the second guard snarled, handing his partner a length of rope from his waist pouch. The first guard tied it tightly around the boy's wrists, pinning them behind his back.  
  
"You're more trouble than you're worth, but Pharaoh wants you back." The boy howled a few more curses at the guards, kicking even more violently than before and even connecting once or twice. The boy's struggles offered Nakhti the distraction he needed. While his own guard's attention was otherwise diverted, he carefully slipped his arm free from the man's grip and vanished into the crowd that had gathered.  
  
By the time the guard realized what had happened, Nakhti was long gone.  
  
****  
  
"That was too close," Nakhti scolded himself. "You just about let yourself get caught! And you know what will happen if they catch you-it's back to the palace and HIM." He allowed his lip to curl, just a bit, with hatred.  
  
You're getting distracted, the voice chimed in. Finish what you started.... You're still weak and have much to learn.  
  
"Then I will learn faster. Pharaoh needs to pay, both for what he did to my father and what he did to ME."  
  
Yes, yes...let your anger guide you. You are becoming strong!  
  
"I am not becoming strong-I am strong."  
  
The night was cool as he walked to the edge of the City. The sands of the Red Lands stretched before him, a never-ending sea of gold turning to red in the fading light of Ra's descent into the underworld. Beyond the Red Lands lay the Necropolis of the Dead-his destination. No sense of going to all the trouble of raiding Pharaoh's tomb if he was only going to get caught. He needed to hone his skills before he attempted *that* feat. Slowly, he began to walk across the desert.  
  
This night, he would begin his revenge.  
  
****  
  
The Necropolis rose before him, dark and silent in its majesty. Nakhti paused to take in a sight he hadn't seen since he was a very small child. "Home..." he whispered, allowing his voice to be caught by the wind and carried into the winding streets. A true smile escaped as he began the familiar trek to the traditional dwellings of his family.  
  
The house stood empty, as Nakhti expected it would. When Pharaoh's guards had swept through the town, they'd arrested his entire family and confiscated the house in the name of Pharaoh's treasury. Obviously, the old bastard had never gotten around to selling it. It would prove to be his undoing-Nakhti knew secrets of the house that the invading guards hadn't. Specifically, the location of his father's tools.  
  
"You should have killed us when you had the chance," Nakhti said to the night sky, "for now I will take my revenge on you, both for what you did to my father and what you've done to me. You turned me into your son's WHORE. May Ammut devour your soul when you stand before Osiris and Anubis!"  
  
The false wall was still intact, despite the number of years the house had stood empty. Carefully, Nakhti tapped the hidden catch and smiled when the wall shifted to reveal his father's secret storage area. Everything he would need lay in that one chamber, hidden from Pharaoh's guards. Rope, a ladder, digging tools, torches...it was all there.  
  
Nakhti sat down on the floor and took a deep breath, and grabbed at his hair, puling it back into a tight braid. His mind was racing, remembering the lessons he'd learned at his father's knee with his brothers. Some of them were ordinary, everyday things-how to count, how to barter, how to fight, how to use a knife, how to read, how to write, even how to speak Mitanni.  
  
It was the *other* lessons he was interested in now. The ones where his father had imparted to him the wisdom of a tomb robber. How to choose the best tomb to rob. The best way to break into said tomb. How to avoid the traps. How to hide any evidence of his presence. The objects that fetched the largest prices in the market.  
  
"Your memory lives, Father," Nakhti said after a moment of silent contemplation. "Your son will avenge you. I am the last of our line, and so it is my duty to do this." He allowed himself a moment to think of his family-his mother, with her soft blue eyes, his five brothers, wild and proud, his two sisters with their doe eyes and gentle laughter. All dead now, victims of Pharaoh's so-called "justice". They'd made both him his father watch as their family was butchered, and when Nakhti had cried, Pharaoh had laughed.  
  
"Know this, traitor," Pharaoh had said to his father, "because of your actions, the souls of your family will never arrive in the Hall of Truth to be judged before Osiris. They will never know the love of the North Wind in the world beyond."  
  
"And my son?" his father had asked, daring to look Pharaoh in the eye despite the chains on his wrists and ankles, a grim reminder of his status as a condemned prisoner. "What of him?"  
  
"Your son belongs to me now, Ameny. His fate, and his life, are in my hands."  
  
"Let him be! He's just a child!"  
  
Pharaoh had barely looked over at Nakhti, kneeling, hands bound, between two guards. "He is mine. And because he is a child, I will allow him the courtesy of not seeing his father's death. Take him to the slave quarters!"  
  
Nakhti heard later that it had taken the slaves a week to clean all the blood off of the floor after Pharaoh's justice had been done.  
  
But the time for remembering was over. Pushing himself to his feet, Nakhti grabbed the equipment he'd need and walked out of the secret room, closing the door tightly behind him. He'd chosen his mark, the tomb of a minor priest who'd died that had only been sealed a few days previously. The perfect place to begin his new career as a tomb robber.  
  
Like father, like son.  
  
****  
  
The Necropolis was silent as Nakhti slipped through its winding streets, headed for the cliffs above it. The eternal resting places of the honored dead were dug into those cliffs by armies of workmen like Nakhti's brothers had been. His father had been a priest of the dead, supervising the funerary rights as the souls of the dead departed to the Western Lands.  
  
Reaching a vantage point just above the entrance to the Valley of the Dead, Nakhti paused to watch for the guards he knew were lurking about. Sure enough, a dark figure entered his vision, passing just below him and continuing on. After making sure there were no further guards coming, Nakhti crept down the cliff face and entered the Valley of the Dead. His chosen mark's tomb lay just within the gates.  
  
Nakhti gently dropped his pack on the ground, ruffling through it for his chisel and then approaching the stone door of the tomb. The builders hadn't even had a chance to properly seal the tomb yet, which was to his benefit. Carefully, he made a small hole in the stone, just large enough to squeeze through. For the first time, his relatively small size worked to his benefit. Once inside, he placed a small piece of cloth over the hole he'd made in order to hide any evidence of light from within the tomb. Grabbing a torch from his pack, Nakhti continued his way into the tomb, stopping every now and then to pick up a small golden object.  
  
The real treasure, however, lay deeper in the tomb, in the Burial Chamber. It was for there Nakhti made. The sarcophagus stood silent in the centre of the dark room, but Nakhti ignored it. It was far too large to concern himself with, nor did he have the time to break it down. Plenty of gold and jewel-encrusted objects lined the walls-cups, jewelry, furniture. Quickly grabbing a few pieces of jewelry and a few small cups, Nakhti threw them to his pack and began his journey back.  
  
Extinguishing the torch, Nakhti removed the cloth and listened for the guards. Only silent greeted him and he carefully slid back out the hole he'd made. No time to fix the damage, but he shoved a few loose pieces of gravel into the spot so that only someone looking closely would be able to see that something was amiss.  
  
Nakhti shouldered his now-heavy pack and began the trek back to the Necropolis, allowing a smile to steal over his face. He'd done it-he was a tomb robber.  
  
"For you, father," he whispered to the stars.  
  
****  
  
The next morning, the Necropolis was buzzing with the robbery. The Valley guards had inadvertently kicked away the debris he'd left, revealing the damaged door. But as nobody had seen anything, the robber walked free.  
  
Nakhti heard the chatter and laughed.  
  
****  
  
Each tomb he chose got a little harder to break into, a little more difficult to find. But Nakhti always had loved challenges, so he attacked each new tomb with fury. Each one he robbed brought him one step closer to breaking into Pharaoh's tomb and wreaking his eternal vengeance. His latest target was one of the High Priest's own men, killed by crocodiles while walking along the Nile. If he could successfully rob that tomb, he was ready to go on to the final stage.  
  
The night was clear and thankfully moonless as Nakhti crept into the Valley of the Dead. The guards had just finished their rounds and were resting for a moment. They never even sensed Nakhti's presence as he walked right by them. The path under his feet was smooth and mostly clear of stones, which made things easier, as there was nothing to kick or make a sound as he passed over it.  
  
"My final test," Nakhti murmured to himself as he stood outside the newly- sealed tomb. "I can do this... And then I shall be ready for the final test. Pharaoh's tomb itself. My time has come!"  
  
Do it! The voice in his head urged. You are almost ready. Finish what you have started!  
  
"Yes." Nakhti's eyes glittered with a strange mix of anger and satisfaction. "I will prove to them that you cannot enslave me. He will pay for what he did. Even Pharaoh himself is not invincible!"  
  
The tomb itself was stupidly simple to get into-didn't even have a decent trap by the door. Nakhti was able to get around it with no difficulty, and almost immediately found himself standing in the middle of the largest mound of burial items he'd ever seen. Grinning, Nakhti took many small items, and a few larger ones, and one that was sure to receive notice in the marketplace when he went to sell it. The solid gold figure of Bast bore a maker's stamp and Nakhti smiled to himself.  
  
It was time to re-introduce himself to Pharaoh.  
  
****  
  
"Ra's blessings on you, sir!" the shopkeeper called out merrily as Nakhti entered. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I acquired an object and I wish to sell it."  
  
The man's eyes nearly gleamed. "Of course, good sir. May I see the item?"  
  
"Certainly." Nakhti reached into his cloth bag and pulled out the statue of Bast. The shopkeeper's face went white.  
  
"Where...where did you get this?" The man asked, turning the statue over in his hand. "I made this piece myself for the High Priest's inner council."  
  
The other man never even flinched. "From his tomb."  
  
"You ROBBED a tomb to get this?"  
  
"How else would I get it?" Nakhti gave the shopkeeper a look. "What are you going to do now? Report me to the market guards?"  
  
"I...I have to. It's punishable by death if you don't!"  
  
"Well then, little man, I have a message you can pass to the guards when you tell them."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I want you to tell Pharaoh a name. MY name."  
  
"Being?"  
  
"Si-Ameny," Nakhti said to the man, a twisted smile on his face. "Tell Pharaoh that Si-Ameny has been here." Trembling, the man nodded, closing his eyes as the tomb robber stalked out his front door and into the busy marketplace of Thebes.  
  
****  
  
A/N: Not sure what "Ameny" means, but "Si-Ameny" means "son of Ameny", which is the name I gave to Nakhti's father.  
  
****  
  
"Ameny has returned!" was the whisper in the marketplace of Thebes all that week. "The most legendary tomb robber in the history of Egypt had returned from the dead! He has come to wreak his vengeance on the Royal Family, and Pharaoh's furious! He's vowed that this tomb robber shall be punished and his soul shall be forever damned."  
  
Nakhti had to fight very hard not to laugh. His soul was damned already, but it was nice to hear that he could raise Pharaoh's ire by simply using his father's name. His father's name still lived, was whispered with awe behind secret hands.  
  
"Beware," Nakhti heard one builder cautioning his trainees, "you must not reveal the secret of the tomb you are building! It must remain hidden or else the soul of the departed shall never reach the Western Lands! Beware, lest Ameny hear you and take his vengeance-price from the very souls of the dead!"  
  
The trainees looked properly horrified at the thought and Nakhti snickered, idly twirling a lock of hair that had escaped its tight braid. For all the dirt that covered his head and body, his hair was still unmistakably light. On this day, Nakhti did not want anyone looking at him too closely. He could not afford to make mistakes now.  
  
Tonight, Nakhti would show them that there was a new legend robbing the tombs of the rich and the powerful.  
  
Tonight, Pharaoh Yami would learn just what it meant to anger the son of Ameny.  
  
Tonight, he would damn Pharaoh's soul, both father AND son, for all eternity. 


	3. Chapter 3

SUMMARY: Part of my Ryou/Bakura series. takes place mostly in the past, so I guess it's a prequel to "Silent Fortress". Then again, it COULD be a sequel to "Where Evil Grows". *evil grin* Take it however you want it. ;) Nakhti's final revenge, and final punishment.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. I do, however, own a Dark Magician toy. And a Malik toy. That's about it.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by the Billy Joel song, "An Innocent Man". Many, many thanks to both my beta readers, Masaki Uke (who helped with many of the Egyptian aspects of this story, including the name "Set-khuh") and Silver/Pachelbel (my grammar coach). Thank you both so much!  
  
/blah/ is Yami Bakura talking to Ryou. //blah// is Ryou talking to Yami Bakura. And I made up one of the places in this story, the Valley of the Dead, as I highly doubt anyone who was NOT Pharaoh, or an otherwise Very Important Person, would have been buried in the Valley of the Kings. Yami Bakura's family history is also entirely my own creation. And I kinda took some liberties with the mummification process.... let's just say that it wasn't as advanced in Yami and Yami Bakura's time, mkay? It works so much better my way. If I've confused you, I apologize and I promise it WILL make sense at the end of this part.  
  
DEDICATION: Kris, as always.  
  
***********  
  
Turn Away, Part 3  
  
The Valley of the Kings was a sacred place, even to Nakhti. He stood at its boundary as Ra was ending his journey through the day's sky, watching the rays play over the golden sand. He wondered if this is how his father felt during his final robbery-nervous and more than a bit excited. If he pulled this off, he would surpass even his father as the most legendary robber in the entire history of the Two Lands.  
  
The soft sand beneath his bare feet still held the heat of the day trapped within their grains, so Nakhti began the long trek down to where Yami's father's tomb lay hidden. Only a select number of people-the man who designed the tomb, the Queen, and Yami himself-knew where the tomb was, but many words slipped out in the darkest hours of the night.  
  
"I often wondered why my father put his tomb where he did," Yami had said one night, half-asleep. "It faces the southeastern wall of the Valley so he cannot even see the Blessed Lands! But I suppose he wished to be near others of our line."  
  
Of course, Yami didn't remember a thing in the morning, but Nakhti had quietly tucked away the knowledge in a corner of his mind, somehow knowing that it would come in handy someday.  
  
And indeed it had.  
  
Full darkness had fallen by the time Nakhti reached the floor of the Valley, which suited him just fine. The darker the night, the harder he was to see and the less chance the Valley guards would spot him once he was out in the open. Some deity was smiling down on him, however, and he made it to Pharaoh's tomb unnoticed. Silently, Nakhti withdrew his tools and began his ritual. The solid stone door gave way like any other and the white-haired boy slipped inside, careful not to jostle the contents of his pack. He had something very special hidden in the cloth bag on this particular trip.  
  
The wealth of Pharaoh's tomb spread from wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling and Nakhti was hard-pressed to choose which pieces to take. He wasn't just here for treasure - he was more here for revenge, so he'd chosen a smaller pack. Removing a few things and setting them carefully on the floor, Nakhti began shoving a few of the amulets and other small objects into his pack before turning his attention to the great stone sarcophagus on the centre of the room. Carefully, Nakhti chipped away at the seal with the stone mason's tools he'd brought, and shoved the lid back just enough to let him work.  
  
"Now, PHARAOH," he muttered to himself, "Now I shall have my eternal revenge." Grinning evilly, Nakhti tore away the protective amulets that the priests had wrapped into the linens covering Pharaoh's body. Once the last amulet had been thrown away, he reached down and picked up the jar of blood he'd stolen from the slaughterhouse in the Necropolis. "Be damned forever." He poured the blood into the sarcophagus, allowing it to soak into every inch of the linen. "May Ammut eat your soul and may you never see the Western Lands! May you suffer the same fate that you cursed my father with! May your soul never be reborn! May Osiris himself strike you down when you stand before him in Judgment!"  
  
Next, Nakhti took a small paintbrush he'd stolen and dabbed it in the blood, turning to the nearest wall and scribbling a curse onto it, one of the more potent soul-destroying curses that his father had taught him, one designed to ensure that the deceased's Ba never made it to the Fields of the Blessed. He repeated the process on the other three walls and stood back, smiling. Now that the last drops of blood were gone, Nakhti returned the stone jar to his pack. He then turned his attention back to the walls, where the name of the Pharaoh was written in many places to ensure his entry into the next life. Smirking, Nakhti took up his stone chisel and set to work obliterating any trace of Pharaoh's name within his own tomb. For a very long time, the only sounds in the tomb were his own breathing and the sound of the chisel striking the rock, removing Pharaoh's name, glyph by glyph, off the walls. His task finished, he looked around the tomb triumphantly.  
  
Glancing back at the sarcophagus, Nakhti decided he would not destroy the mummy. He wanted Yami to see what had been done to his father's body. The blood now covering the linen trapped the soul in its earthly body, preventing it from reaching the Western Lands.  
  
Carefully, he began to gather up his tools. Glancing around to ensure nothing had been left, Nakhti began the journey back to the entrance to the tomb. Reaching the hole in the door, Nakhti sniffed for a moment, checking to see if any guards were nearby. Catching no scent on the wind, he pulled himself out and stood, flinging his bag to the ground at his feet.  
  
"Father!" he called softly to the night sky. "Behold your revenge!"  
  
He heard the footstep half a second before strong arms caught him roughly around the waist. Throwing him to the ground, two sets of hands quickly grabbed his arms and tied them tightly behind him before dragging him back to his feet.  
  
"Tomb Robber," one of the guards said.  
  
"Pharaoh has been expecting you."  
  
****  
  
The throne room was empty of all save Pharaoh and the High Priest when Nakhti was dragged in and flung at Pharaoh's feet, chains rattling. Upon their entry to the city proper, the ropes previously binding him had been replaced by much more secure chains before the guards had taken him straight to the palace.  
  
Yami's eyes widened when he saw exactly who the guards had thrown at his feet. "YOU?" Then he caught himself. "But of course...I had forgotten your father's name, as it has been erased from history. Just as I understand you tried to do to MY father this night."  
  
The prisoner glared at Yami, daring to meet his eyes, daring him to take action.  
  
"Si-Ameny," Pharaoh Yami said coldly. He could hear Set-khuh pacing behind him, eager to get on with whatever was in store for the tomb robber now before them. "The son of a traitor becomes a traitor himself. Your soul was damned already, Tomb Robber, because of the sins of your father. Why, then, did you feel the need to add on to them?" He sat down on his throne, awaiting an answer.  
  
For his part, Nakhti remained stubbornly silent, now making a point of looking at something over Yami's shoulder and not at Yami himself. When Set-khuh walked into his field of vision, he simply looked higher on the wall, until he was studying the murals on the ceiling with detached interest.  
  
"Speak! Your Pharaoh commands it!"  
  
Still, the white-haired boy refused to open his mouth.  
  
"Nakhti," Yami finally sighed, the anger fading a bit from his eyes as he watched his former lover start at the sound of his true name, bringing his head back down so that he was looking straight ahead. "Why? Why would you betray me like this?"  
  
Nakhti's own eyes blazed with a fire hotter than the sands of Egypt at mid- day as he glared at Yami. "You betrayed me first, *pharaoh*." Guiltily, Yami's eyes flicked to Set-khuh, now standing still, a little behind and to the right of his throne. "Yes, Pharaoh. You betrayed me with HIM and now you ask why I did what I did?"  
  
"But why this way?" Set-khuh spoke up. "There are surely much better ways for a slave to draw attention to himself. And you weren't very good at tomb robbing-we knew you would go after Pharaoh's tomb sooner or later. Not only are you a stupid little slave, you're a failure as you got yourself caught."  
  
"I am NOT a slave!" shouted Nakhti, hearing his voice ring off the very ceiling. "I have never been a slave, despite what Pharaoh YAMI tried to do to me." He allowed the venom to drip from his voice as he spoke his former lover's name. "Pharaoh is the one who started this, not I! As for getting caught, treasure means nothing to me. I got what I wanted."  
  
Set-khuh snorted.  
  
"I got my revenge on Pharaoh, both in this life and in the afterlife!"  
  
"My father-" Yami interrupted.  
  
"Your father killed mine and turned me into his son's WHORE," Nakhti spat, enjoying the wince he saw cross Yami's face. "Now I am free of that life, and I am nobody's whore. Never again."  
  
Set-khuh took a step forward. "You're a slave," he hissed. "You're a slave, and a whore, and whatever else your Master wishes you to be! For your insolence, you deserve to be killed immediately."  
  
"You can try, Priest," was the snarled response. "But I swear by the red hand of the God whose name you bear, I shall kill you before you get within five steps of me."  
  
"I accept-"  
  
"Set-khuh! Nakhti!" Yami interrupted, drawing both men's attention back to himself. "Stop! You will address the High Priest with respect, Tomb Robber, else I will have your tongue cut out of your head and fed to you as your last meal. As for you, Set-khuh, stop baiting him."  
  
"And what of YOU?" Nakhti spat, raising one chained arm to point at Yami. "Do you proclaim your innocence?"  
  
Yami rose to his feet, coming down the steps to stand before Nakhti. "I am your Pharaoh and you will obey me."  
  
"And what if I do not? I am damned anyway, so what will you do if I do not respect you? Kill me?" Nakhti laughed, a high, crazed laugh that made even Yami back up a step. "I am dead already. You did that."  
  
"I have killed no-one!"  
  
"You killed Nakhti," the white-haired boy said, struggling to his feet despite the chains on his wrists and ankles. "You killed him the night he found you in bed with your 'despised' High Priest."  
  
"Don't be foolish," Set-khuh said. "You ARE Nakhti, little Tomb Robber. You stand before us now not under the ridiculous name you've given yourself, but as Nakhti. Nakhti the slave. Nakhti the son of the traitor. Nakhti the *condemned*."  
  
"Nakhti is dead," the boy insisted. "I am Si-Ameny! Nakhti died the night he was betrayed by the only person he ever truly loved. And in his place, I was born. Despite his name, Nakhti the weakling died, leaving behind only Si-Ameny the strong."  
  
Yami shook his head, reaching out one hand to touch the white hair, streaked and covered with mud, but still unmistakably white. "Nakhti, stop- "  
  
"I am not he."  
  
Yami allowed his hand to fall between them as his former lover jerked away. Never taking his eyes off the other's face, he sighed. "Very well then. Si-Ameny. Do you deny any of the charges brought before you?"  
  
The tomb robber shook his head. "No."  
  
"You know the punishment."  
  
"It has been mine since I was a child. What difference does it make now?"  
  
"And you have no wish to repent?"  
  
"I have no need. I have done what I set out to do."  
  
"Nakhti-"  
  
"Stop calling me that! Nakhti was weak, and he is DEAD. He was undeserving of his name."  
  
"Si-Ameny, I must say something."  
  
"Save your words, Pharaoh," the tomb robber said. "They mean nothing to me anymore. Words are easy to say. It is actions that matter to me. And your actions, Pharaoh, have destroyed the very things you claimed to love. You told Nakhti that you loved him, yet that very night he found you in bed with the High Priest. Now tell me, Yami, how much faith I should put on your words?"  
  
"You...he...I was never able to explain."  
  
"More meaningless words. Save them for someone who cares."  
  
Yami looked at the boy who looked so much like Nakhti, yet in many ways, was not the one he loved. He looked at Set-khuh, shuttering his crimson eyes so as to make them unreadable. "As he also robbed from your priesthood, I would allow you to choose his punishment. I care not what you decide. He is correct-Nakhti my beloved died many moons ago. Only Si- Ameny the traitor stands before us now. I leave his fate in your hands, Set-khuh."  
  
The High Priest bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."  
  
"I only order one thing-make it public so that all may see what happens to those who oppose Pharaoh's will."  
  
Set-khuh smiled, a cruel, malicious smile. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
Then Yami was gone, leaving Set-khuh and Si-Ameny alone.  
  
"Will you kill me?" Si-Ameny finally asked, glaring at the High Priest.  
  
"Eventually. That is the punishment for those traitors of your...profession. However, I wish to have my fun, if you will, with you first. You did say, after all, you were once a whore."  
  
Si-Ameny backed up a step, fighting to retain his balance as the chains tried to trip him. "Stay away from me."  
  
Set-khuh stalked towards him, a predatory look on his face. "You have nowhere to go, little Nakhti, little slave. Pharaoh has given you to me and I wish to enjoy every minute of it."  
  
Si-Ameny felt the wall at his back and closed his eyes, knowing in his soul that there truly was nowhere else to run. Set-khuh reached out one hand and ran it down the side his prisoner's face, caressing it as a lover would.  
  
And then there was only pain-and darkness.  
  
****  
  
Ra's bright rays lifted him from the darkness. Slowly, he struggled to his knees and opened his eyes. He knelt, alone, in the middle of the temple square, surrounded on all sides by the people of Thebes. Yami and Set-khuh stood on a slightly raised dais directly in front of him, both dressed in their most impressive and intimidating clothing. Glancing down, he blanched at the blood pooling beneath him, staining his legs and dirty linen kilt red. His movement caught the attention of the pair on the dais.  
  
Seeing the prisoner was awake, Set-khuh stepped forward. "People of Thebes, behold the traitor! He has robbed the tombs of our dead! He has stolen the provisions of our fathers, given by us, the living, to sustain them in the Western Lands! He has desecrated our holiest places! He has damned the soul of the honoured father of mighty Pharaoh! What say you, people of Thebes? What shall be his punishment?"  
  
As one, the people cried "DEATH!"  
  
"Then behold!" Set-khuh removed an item from the waistband of his kilt and held it up to the light of Ra. "As he has damned our honoured ones, so shall he be damned! Never shall he rest, never shall he know peace."  
  
Yami held up another golden object, carefully avoiding the one he wore around his neck so that the two didn't touch. "Never shall he face the final test of Osiris," he said quietly. "His soul shall be forever condemned to the darkness."  
  
Si-Ameny's eyes widened as he realized what Yami was holding.  
  
"Have you any last words?" Yami asked, stepping down off the dais and approaching Si-Ameny, who simply shook his head. "Nothing at all?"  
  
"My fate is decided," he choked out. "What can I say? I will not relent, or apologize for my actions. I only did what was necessary to restore my family's honour."  
  
Set-khuh gave a harsh bark. "Your family HAS no honour!"  
  
"The traitor Ameny had no honour," Yami corrected. "He destroyed his own family, condemned them to be devoured by Ammut. You had nothing to restore."  
  
Si-Ameny lowered his head. "I do not deny my father's actions, but I pray remind you, mighty Pharaoh, that the son is not the same as the father. Did you not once say those very words? The sins of the father should not extend to the son? And yet YOUR father condemned an innocent child to a life of slavery."  
  
Yami's eyes glittered with anger. "You twist words said in love to your own purposes, traitor. The son of Ameny is no more innocent than Ameny himself was!"  
  
Si-Ameny snorted at the word 'love'. "You did not love him, so how could you say anything to him 'in love'?."  
  
"Be silent!"  
  
"You betrayed him with the very-"  
  
"SILENCE!" Yami roared, drawing on his shadow powers to amplify his voice. "What was done is done, traitor, and I order you to keep a civil tongue in your head lest I tear it out and feed it to the palace dogs!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Si-Ameny shifted in his chains. "Then be done with your punishment, oh mighty one. My time and my patience grow short."  
  
Yami's eyes narrowed as he began to draw his shadow powers to him, but Set- khuh distracted him by taking up the cry again. "People of Thebes! Watch and be warned-let him serve as a warning! This is what happens to those who stand against Pharaoh!" Striding forward, Set-khuh took hold of Si- Ameny's chains and forced him to make his obedience, forehead pressed into the sand at Set-khuh's feet. "For your deeds, traitor, we have decided thus:  
  
"Your soul shall be sealed into the Sennen Ring, which shall be given unto Pharaoh, who shall display it on the walls of Thebes as a deterrent to those who would disobey Pharaoh's word.  
  
"Your soul, little Nakhti, is to be eternally damned to walk the darkness of the Shadow Realm-alone."  
  
"Let it be known that Pharaoh's justice is swift!" Yami cried, handing Set- khuh the Sennen Ring. "Pharaoh's will be done."  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Yami backed up a few steps, leaving Set-khuh and Si-Ameny alone in the centre of the square. The crowd fell silent as Set-khuh began the ritual. Raising his hands, he began chanting a spell in a tongue older than the pyramids themselves. Swallowing his panic, Si-Ameny locked his eyes onto Yami's, trying to stop the wave of power ripping through every inch of his body. But Yami's eyes were cold and to his horror, Si-Ameny felt his soul begin to separate from his body. He fought with every fiber of his being, but in the end, his will wasn't strong enough to combat Set-khuh's shadow powers. Slowly, painfully, his soul was extracted from its human host and forced into the Sennen Ring.  
  
"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" he screamed as the darkness surrounded him, pressing him down, trying to crush him. "Don't leave me here alone...."  
  
Unable to see, unable to hear, and not certain he could even SPEAK, the white-haired boy sank down to what passed for a floor and cried. He cried for the child he had been, innocent and trusting at his father's knee. He cried for the slave he'd become, beaten and starved. He cried for the soul he'd allowed to die the day Yami betrayed him with Set-khuh. And he cried for the Tomb Robber that never should have been.  
  
Finally, Nakhti raised his head and whispered, "why, Yami?"  
  
He asked the same question for days, months, years, millennia, but silence was his only answer.  
  
******  
  
Ryou was silent for a very long time after his other half stopped speaking, closing their link while he ran though everything. The spirit also kept silent, allowing the boy to sort out his thoughts. Finally, Ryou opened his thoughts to his yami once again.  
  
//Nakhti?//  
  
/What?/  
  
//Thank you for sharing that with me.// Ryou allowed a bit of sympathy to bleed through the link. //I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't believe Yami and Seto would ever be that cruel!//  
  
/You did not know them then. Both were different from who they are today./  
  
//Then can't you try forgiving them? Please?//  
  
There was a long pause. /It is difficult, Ryou./  
  
//Can you try?//  
  
The spirit sighed. /I am promising nothing. But for you, I will try./  
  
//Thank you,// Ryou said, his smile clear even though the link. //See, you're not so bad after all!//  
  
/Don't you dare go telling anyone else that I've gone soft! I'll never live it down!/ And as he retreated back into his soul room, the sound of Ryou's laughter followed him, brightening up the gloom just a little bit.  
  
/END! 


End file.
